please let me know if this goes against any panopticon rules and ill change it immediately!! ⌜ ⌝ ılı.lıllılı.ıllı. ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ; [ Calumny - Interview Transcript #3 ] 2:07 ——◦———— - 8:26 ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯ ⌞ g ⌟ w̶a̴r̴n̴i̷n̷g̵:̴ ̴a̷n̴y̴ ̸t̷a̴m̵p̴e̷r̸i̶n̵g̵,̴ ̵d̴e̷s̴t̶r̵u̴c̴t̷i̶o̶n̸,̵ ̷o̴r̷ ̸v̸i̸e̸w̵i̵n̷g̶ ̸o̸f̵ ̷t̵h̴i̶s̵ ̸t̸r̶a̶n̵s̵c̴r̵i̷p̸t̷ ̸c̸a̸n̴ ̵r̵e̴s̴u̵l̶t̷ ̷i̷n̴ ̵f̷i̴n̷e̴s̴,̸ ̶c̸r̸i̸m̸i̶n̸a̷l̶ ̸c̷h̸a̵r̷g̶e̴s̸,̶ ̶o̸r̵ ̸j̸a̸i̵l̴ ̴t̷i̴m̸e̵.̴ ̷t̵h̶i̵s̴ ̴i̶n̴f̸o̴r̵m̵a̶t̷i̴o̸n̸ ̴i̴s̴ ̷s̷t̸r̷i̴c̸t̸l̷y̷ ̴c̷o̵n̷f̷i̸d̸e̵n̵t̵i̵a̶l̵.̷ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - static buzzes, loud and harsh. it is cold to the ear as if a frigid glacier crackling. a clock ticks by, unrelentingly steady, perhaps the only steady source of sound in the room, uncomparable to calumny's hesitant, rapid breaths despite her sophisticated procedure and the clicks of a pen, the slight readjustment of a chair, and a frustrated inhale. one is tired the other is tired too " ...two, one. ms. lavoiyee, are you aware of why you're here today?" "oh, no need to be formal with me. calumny is fine." "i'm aware. calumny minstrenso lavoiyee, you've mentioned. kindly answer the question, ms. lavoiyee." both voices sharpen "oh? because you've treated me quite so kindly beforehand? if you insist. yes. i am quite aware." "that shall spare us some trouble, then. continuing-" "oh, pardon, i assumed that would end the interview. the humidity here is terrible for my fur, you know." one voice wavers upward- growing more composed "moving. on." the other hardens, rigid and unmoving "pardon me, miss. what happened to my right to remain silent?" "...trust me, you've long past crossed the line of being able to decide what you can and can't do." "oh. i see how it is. yes, continue on, miss." one voice is firm. the other is lost and disappointed. "i assumed as much. can you attribute where and when your crimes were committed?" "certainly." "... miss?" "...yes?" "kindly elaborate." and now both voices are lost. both cover it easily. weakness is preyed upon. "i suppose i must, hm? eight pm. tuesday. cloudy weather. just a few streets down from- hm, what was the street name again? pardon, i don't quite remember. it's quiet there. dirty, but quiet. the sun was leaking in, just barely. tranquil, there. until it wasn't. though, miss, i don't suppose i'm required to elaborate on that?" the voice wavers, the slightest bit. "...no. that matches our files." "oh! so you knew! then why am i here, miss?" "to ensure you are not being framed for anothers guilt." "i'm no expert, but i'm sure that system is flawed as much as you think it's invincible, miss. once this interview gets downloaded, that's where i become the expert. anyway- trust me. this is my guilt. mine alone." both are solemn and firm- for entirely separate reasons "you appear... confident." "what, is a confession a rarity in this prison? -oh, pardon, miss. now that you've asked your questions, is it alright if i ask a few of my own?" "that's not how this interview works, ms. lavoiyee." one- perhaps both, grow frustrated "oh no, my apologies, poor miss. i will now duck my head and answer all your questions. say, has it ever dawned on you that your interrogation tactics are incredibly ineffective?" "i'd like for you to elaborate on your crime, please." she ignores the question. interesting "targeting a poor lady such as myself? really, the lot've you have gone downhill. tsk tsk. " "answer the question, ms. lavoiyee, or i will not hesitate to resort to other methods." "oh no! well, since i'm feeling so very threatened, perhaps i might just spill all my guts here and now." both voices grow separate from each other. one is choked. it is calumny's. it is mocking. teasing. and it breaks. "but- you wouldn't want that from me, right miss? i got your confession. that's all you wanted from me. that's all I'll give you. I've been found guilty. congratulations. i am guilty. let me be guilty. let me be forgiven- you know i can't do it myself. or what, does my file not say that? that i need you- not you, you insignificant speck of dust, i need THE WARDEN- to forgive me. you learned something new. please. let me go." a frustrated exhale. the shuffle of papers. a raspy voice, trying to recover their mistakes, of which both have made. a final pen click, dull and dreary and resounding against the bare white walls. a chair squeak, as in unmaintained for a long time. tiny noises, only perceptible in the silence that extends on. on, the guilty, is nervous, shedding her false composer. the other is tired. both devoid of warmth. both only here to get what they want
"...that should be all for now." the miss is resolved. they are reluctant to say so, but time- only kept track of by the fierce, relentless clock- is losing itself by the moment, fading away to dust. and calumny is more of a master than she lets on at acting as if she doesn't care at all. she knows they will come back, they will continue to ask, but she wants- needs- to stay steadfast, as a rock against crashing tides. she knows this shall be her final resting place, one way or another, be it she loses herself in here or loses herself because the concept of the /outside/, where she will shun herself because everyone around her is good, too good for her, is too much for her to bear. here was good. here is good. here will be good. here /must/ be good. "oh, pity." "why's that, ms. lavoiyee? keen to continue?" the voice is prodding. annoyed. "heavens no, miss. life is short and i'd much rather spend my life outside of this dank, dusty wreck." "oh? can i get you elaborate on your answer?" ah, she is pulling her into her trap again. answers, answers, answers. no guilt or morality or doubt in any of these cats at all, hm? calumny signs in disapproval. she ought to be a bit more subtle than that. she leans close. "why, certainly." "wonderful. so, can i get a conclusion before you leave?" the miss's voice is content, her constant search for information from the reserved, solitary, muse fruitless until now. meanwhile, calumny's smile grows into a snide smirk, the kind a child would have upon thinking some spectacular comeback. that kind that told her she was no rebel, did not seek to escape the prison nor to break it- merely find some fun in it, her absolute punishment non-negotiable until the very end. "i don't know, can you?" a frustrated exhale. calumny rises- a squeak of the chair. she shakes her head- they should get them fixed. the clock seems to slow down as she pads toward the exit. unrelenting. nervous. scared she will be called to stand down. she is not, but nervous all the same. *CLICK* ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - idea from @FireFIight- music layout from https://emojicombos.com/now-playing-symbols
